


A Dance of Ivory & Gold.

by DivatheAvid



Category: Critical Role (Web Series), Critical Role (Web Series) RPF, Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Original Character(s), Other, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 02:13:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29726748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DivatheAvid/pseuds/DivatheAvid
Summary: Updates will come on a bi-weekly to monthly basis! Due to inserting an entirely new character into the Nein (which is entirely self-indulgent, I’ll admit) some things will diverge from canon but I will do my best not to interfere too heavily.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 2





	A Dance of Ivory & Gold.

**Author's Note:**

> Updates will come on a bi-weekly to monthly basis! Due to inserting an entirely new character into the Nein (which is entirely self-indulgent, I’ll admit) some things will diverge from canon but I will do my best not to interfere too heavily.

My hands were raw and dotted with scabs that cracked and bled with each defiant flex of my fingers, what was once a near perfect canvas of porcelain had become a breeding ground for infection with crusted on streaks of blood that I couldn’t even hope to scrape away - not when my hands were bound and my energy was slowly being sapped away. With an unceremonious  _ thud,  _ I relaxed my posture and let my head knock against the carriage wall - I could feel every little bump and vibration, they sent shockwaves down my aching spine and chased away the ever-present need for rest. It had been a week since I’d been taken, the fray was practically burned into my memory - Alyssa’s shrieks as she awoke to a knife against her throat, Jeremiah’s shouting as he tried to fight and rouse the other members of our rag-tag band. What was worse, though, were their screams that still echoed in my mind, their pleas for mercy as they were butchered - I wish they hadn’t fought, I wish they’d stayed asleep and I’d been taken silently.    
  
_ I wish I hadn’t tried to run.  _ _  
_ _  
_ Strands of tangled gold brushed against my cheek, tickling the patch of skin just above my brutalized mouth - I couldn’t help but scrunch my nose to chase it away, a sharp exhale doing just the trick, momentarily at least. 

_ Deva. _

They had whispered that night - muttering amongst themselves just before my friends had come to save my sorry ass.    
  
_ Do you know how much she’s worth? Pure Blooded, unscathed - thousands, has to be thousands. _

I didn’t know what that meant - Deva, pure blooded - thousands? Gold. I was to be sold off like a prized hog - for what reason, I wasn’t sure but it was a fair estimate. Would I fetch a high price when I looked so torn up, though? Surely the smell alone would knock a few hundred off the asking price at the very least and if my hands were similar to whatever the rest of me looked like, surely more would be shed. I shouldn’t have laughed, but it slipped out before I could even think - it earned me a hiss from whatever creature was stored at my left and a mournful, almost pitiful whine from something - someone - in the furthest corner. I wasn’t the only one stowed away in this wagon of horrors - no, they had captured three others en route and a few others were lying about when I finally awoke. One was dead, curled up in a too-small cage and stinking of shit and rot - I grimaced at the thought, I’d become accustomed to the stench . . . but even thinking about it reminded me of just how sensitive my stomach had become without being properly fed.    
  
The sounds outside the cart were muffled - by magic, I’d assume - but we had stopped moving and something had shaken us enough that I was forced forward so hard my skull nearly met with my bent knees. It took nearly all my core strength to stop the collision, the very tip of my nose merely kissing the highest edge of my kneecap and resting there for a moment as I made an attempt to gather the remnants of my wits.    
  
_ Molly! _

Everything was happening so fast, the sounds of a short-lived scuffle ringing in my ears and dredging up the memories that had become a cruel, repeating nightmare. Screaming. Shouting.  _ Begging.  _ _  
_ _  
_ It was all so familiar, too familiar. _  
_ _  
_ I peered into the darkness, begged my eyes to work this time and let me see through the veil of night - but I saw nothing. No movement, no faces, not even a damnable crate or cage - darkness, empty and unfeeling.  _ Cold.  _ _  
_ _  
_ Was this how it would all end for me? Locked away in the darkness, left to wither away or succumb to infection - or perhaps sold off to some sadistic bastard who got his rocks off on purchasing stolen goods. . .    
  
I couldn’t tell anyone how I actually escaped - how I managed to bash a sizable hole in the side of the cart and slip through like sunlight peeking through the slits in a drawn curtain. It was a blur of adrenaline, pure and unfiltered, it drove every thunderous beat of my heart and every pathetic grunt as I forced my legs to endure the ache of their week-long disuse. Like a coward, I slipped within the treeline, every branch broken beneath my bare feet covered by the ruckus just behind my back. I didn’t look when the screaming began nor when I clearly heard my captors depart - no, I only dared to acknowledge the distraction that allowed my escape when the sobbing began. Full-bodied and mournful, covered only by the howling winds that whispered of the oncoming storm.    
  
I should have helped.

I felt pitiful as I slinked out from the pit I truly belonged in. More so as I approached those poor souls, surrounding a body - but not of some stranger or enemy but their  _ friend.  _ They crowded him, laid their hands upon him in hopes of finding a pulse, a breath -  _ anything  _ \- if the blood soaking into the dirt weren’t enough to emphasize the fragility of mortality, the gaping wound surely was.   
  
“ I’m so sorry. “    
  
My voice broke when I spoke and the harshness of it made me wince, but I persevered, pushing past the lump that had formed in my throat and threatened to stop even the smallest breath.    
  
“ I . . “    
  
“ Can you heal him-- a-are you a healer? “    
  
The smallest of the lot spoke, all fangs and panic, her eyes glazed over with the ferality of the beginning stages of grief - it hadn’t sunk in yet, that her friend was gone - forever. My bottom lip trembled and couldn’t do more than shake my head, the knotted mess of hair atop my head bobbing around in an attempt to fall normally. 

“ We have to find . . . we have to get someone to bring him back. “    
  
My heart broke for her - for all of them - but especially for that poor creature at my feet; beautiful even amidst his final song, his skin was of supple lilac and decorated with splotches of ink that seemed to stretch over every inch of him - hidden only beneath the ornate clothes he was now practically swaddled in like a newborn who could so easily catch a cold.    
  


“ Nott, we have to find the others - we can’t. . .”    
  
My eyes drifted to the conversation’s newcomer, much taller than the Goblin - though just as green in the face, even if she tried her best to hide it. She was the first to approach me, all narrowed eyes and judgement - she practically stripped me down with a single, sweeping glance that left my feeling so very vulnerable. But it was better than the avoidance and disillusion, it felt more human - more real.    
  
“ Were you there the whole time? “   
  
The severity of her voice told me just how she was piecing the situation together in her head; I was a bystander, watching their friend get murdered and gawking like a noble woman did a hound that dared to relieve himself in front of her. I swallowed thickly, feeling that ever-present lump budge ever so slightly just so I could find my nerve and let it give my voice even a little backbone.    
  
“ No - I was . . . in one of the carts - I left - no, escaped. I escaped and hid, I didn’t know - I- “    
  
I watched all that boldness leave her and she deflated entirely - shoulders slumping down, gaze falling to my bindings and torn-up night clothes - she couldn’t accuse me of anything, not when I looked every part the runaway I claimed to be. There was no steadiness to her hands when she reached for me nor when she began to fiddle with the chains that hung from my wrists - when I looked down to watch her, keep track of every little move she made, I couldn’t help but wonder if the magic they held had worn of when the carts left. It must have, because after a moment of tugging and fiddling, with the added help of a lockpick being haphazardly jammed and wiggled around in the lock, I was free and easily ten pounds lighter.   
  
“ I’m sorry for your loss - those . . . monsters, they’re a tough bunch to handle. “    
  
Each finger trailed against the opposite wrist, feeling the grooves that indented my skin where the shackles had sat; tender yet numb and cold to the touch, I hadn’t realized just how cold I was.   
  
“ Yeah. “    
  


The rest of the conversation went much the same - mumbled apologies and acceptances, the exchange of names and other pleasantries brought on by the simple need for a distraction and to be at least somewhat courteous during a tumultuous night. I had expected to be sent on my way - I helped them bury their dead, watched as they erected a gravemarker and gave their final remarks that I did my best to tune out. It wasn’t my place to listen, wasn’t my place to even look upon their makeshift grave - but I stood a pillar of support, even though I was little more than a bitter reminder.    
  
However, there were no goodbyes at the end, not to me, they simply walked - waited for me to follow, trudging through the slowly dampening earth as the rain finally appeared and began to soak us to the bone. And it led me to sitting at their camp, curled up within myself while my hands stretched towards that hopeful little fire between us - warming my fingers and bringing back feeling into my hands as well as the chance for my skin to begin its healing. 

  
For the first time in far too long, I felt safe - even if it was only a little.    
  
“ Lyra - “    
  
The green one, Nott as I’d come to find out, broke the silence first - slurred my name between indulgent sips from her flask - her voice was, strangely, the most comforting. Perhaps because of how much it stood out, it reminded me of Delilah - the smallest and mightiest of us, the last to join but the last to fall as well. She was a silly old thing, a halfling past her prime with a penchant for crude remarks and tobacco -    
  
“ Yes, Nott? “    
  
My voice still hadn’t recovered yet, still so shattered and raw, but appearances weren’t quite important - not at the moment.    
  
“ How long . . . were you in there? “   
  
The hesitation was obvious, it was practically painted across her face and the longer my eyes lingered the more she attempted to hide beneath her hood; I couldn’t help but study her, from pointed teeth to the very tips of her dramatically pointed ears - Goblins weren’t common, not ones so friendly and . . .gentle.    
  
“ A week, maybe - it could have been more, but I’d like to think . . . it wasn’t too much beyond that. “    
  
Silence, it wasn’t almost insufferable but only due to how tense it made me - how it made me remember being in that damnable cart with those bodies and . . . Gods, all the people. I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth and chewed, split the skin between my teeth until I tasted the bitter sting of copper on my tongue and persisted, though slower.    
  
“ I’ll take the first watch. “    
  
It was the first time I’d heard him speak, his accent thick and almost . . . charming, or it could have been had he had even a lick of heart behind his words. Caleb, Nott had introduced him when he refused, or rather while he was too strangled by grief to even acknowledge my presence - I didn’t blame him, not even for a second. No one disagreed, we simply . . . dispersed to whatever dry corner we could find and bedded down for the night.    
  
It was the first time I’d slept in two days and the first time I didn’t dream - I was consumed by darkness, heavy but soothing, warmed by the fire that danced beyond my heavy eyelids.    
  
I didn’t know what fate I’d stumbled upon, I didn’t want to question it, but . . . I had a feeling that I was just where I needed to be.    
  



End file.
